The Fiery Crown Cycle: A Dragon's Rebirth

Chapter 94

Though the voice belonged to a mere whelp, Garruk understood that the red dragon before him could end his life with a casual swipe of its claw. The surest path to survival was obedience. Absolute and immediate.

The berries had a strange, pungent flavor he didn't recognize, but his claws did not stop, relentlessly feeding the crimson fruit into his already-numb mouth.

Aiden watched, a glimmer of satisfaction in his slitted, crimson eyes, as the gnoll consumed the last of the Flamepepper berries. Excellent. The meat is now well-marinated.

His great head turned toward the pile of firewood. He recalled vines clinging to some of the logs, and a quick glance confirmed it. He reached out, tore a thick tangle of vines from a log, and tossed it at the gnoll's feet.

“Bind your own hands and feet,” Aiden commanded, his voice once again in the Common Tongue.

Hearing the draconic whelp's command, a surge of desperate hope flared in Garruk's chest. He means to take me prisoner! A delirious relief washed over him. He snatched the vines from the ground, quickly looping them around his ankles. He then wound the rest around his wrists, using his claws and teeth to wrench the final knot tight. A dead knot. Inescapable.

This gnoll is proving remarkably compliant, Aiden noted.

He dismissed the gnoll from his thoughts, his gaze scanning the woodpile. It settled on a long, straight branch. He extended a claw, snapping it from the log. Holding the branch in his left claw, he raked his right claws down its length, shearing away every twig and knot in a single, smooth motion, leaving a perfect spit.

He rose and walked to the bound gnoll. He threaded the spit through the gap between the gnoll's bound legs and arms, then lifted the trussed-up creature and mounted him on the stone rack he had prepared earlier.

Looking at the gnoll, now hanging upside down over the prospective fire pit, Aiden felt a sense of satisfaction. Excellent. All that's left is to light the fire.

His gaze shifted to the Ridgebolt carcass. Like any proper chef, he knew the importance of preparing all his ingredients before he started to cook. He seized the half-eaten carcass and dragged it forward.

Slosh.

The remaining viscera slid from the open abdominal cavity, a slick pile of organs connected by the long, coiled intestine. He drew a single claw across the membrane, severing the connection. The organs slapped onto the stone floor with a wet thud.

His crimson eyes fixed on the massive carcass. Time to butcher.

His claws were the finest cleavers imaginable. With a few swift movements, the avian carcass was expertly portioned into seven large pieces. He picked up the long neck, its surface covered in vibrant purple feathers.

Should I pluck it? he mused. It would certainly make for a cleaner presentation.

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His maw opened, and a torrent of red-gold flame washed over the bird's neck. When the fire subsided, the air was filled with the smell of burnt feathers and roasting meat. The neck in his claw was now a piece of blackened charcoal. He poked at the surface with his other claw, scraping away a thick layer of carbon before revealing the cooked meat beneath.

Perhaps the heat was a bit excessive.

He lifted his head, looking deeper into the cave. Bianca was lying on the ground, her back to him, her white tail swishing back and forth with frantic energy.

“One, two, three… nine, aow!”

“One, two, three… nine, aow!”

Her counting echoed faintly through the lair.

“Bianca, catch!”

Aiden tossed the charred neck. It soared through the air in a sooty arc.

Hearing her name, the counting stopped. Bianca turned her head just in time to see a black, lumpy object flying toward her.

“Aow?”

Her maw opened on instinct. She snapped it out of the air.

Ah-wumph.

She began to chew.

Crunch, crunch.

The taste is strange, she thought, but it's definitely meat. Not as good as last time, though, aow.

She chewed and swallowed the entire thing. She was about to complain about the quality, but Aiden had already turned his back to her. Oh well. Back to counting my gold!

The white dragon turned back to her hoard, her eyes shining at the sight of the glittering piles of gold and silver. Right, aow, what number was I on? How many nines did I count?

Grr, aow! It's all Aiden's fault! He made me forget!

With a frustrated grunt, Bianca used her claws to sweep all the coins back into one big pile. The little darlings were all together again.

“One, two, three… nine, aow…”

…

Aiden gazed at the remaining cuts of meat. Fine. No more de-feathering. I'll just roast them as they are.

He took one of the large pieces and, with his other claw, scored its surface with four deep cuts. The pale pink flesh beneath looked tender and fresh. Perfect. He grabbed a handful of Flamepepper berries and meticulously rubbed them into the gashes.

Hanging from his spit, Garruk watched this procedure. A cold knot of dread began to form in his stomach. Something felt terribly wrong.

Aiden prepared the other five cuts of meat in the same fashion. He lifted one to his snout, his wide nostrils flaring. The scent of fresh meat mingled with the sharp perfume of the Flamepeppers. Excellent. The flavor has soaked in,now for the skewers.

He turned to the great logs he'd dragged into the lair. They had plenty of sturdy branches. He walked over and, in short order, had stripped six thick branches, leaving the logs nearly bare. He carried the six freshly-cut skewers back to his butchering station.

He sat on the ground, his powerful hind legs splayed out, and took a piece of meat. He impaled it on the sharpened tip of a skewer. His long, sinuous red tail began to sway gently from side to side. He was in a remarkably good mood.

Once the meat was secured, his tail snaked forward, coiled around the skewer, and lifted it, placing it on the ten-yard-high stone rack he had built.

Garruk watched the skewer being placed on a rack identical to his own. He watched as the red dragon methodically prepared the other pieces. He remembered the red berries he had been forced to eat—the same berries now being stuffed into the raw meat.

In that single, horrifying moment, Garruk finally understood.

He understood why something had felt so terribly wrong.

This dragon was not taking prisoners. He was preparing a barbecue.

The spit. The seasonings. Him.

He was not a prisoner. He was an ingredient.

Terror dilated his pupils. His body began to thrash wildly, but the dead knot he had so carefully tied held fast. The unyielding vines did not give a single inch.

Hearing the commotion, Aiden lifted his head and glanced in the direction of the sound. It was the gnoll, its struggles causing the spit to grate against the stone rack.

He paid it no mind. He had just finished skewering the last piece of meat.

Everything was ready. Now, at last, he could display the true artistry of his cooking. Aiden's draconic maw split into a wide grin, revealing two rows of serrated, bone-white teeth.